


Sailing

by mydogwatson



Series: The Postcard Tales [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sherlock in ripped denims, Sunshine and candy floss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:44:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stakeout gets interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sailing

**Author's Note:**

> This one would have been less intimidating had the title been Cruising, but…in the end there were a lot of tiny little words on the postcard.

Well, this was certainly better than enduring a stakeout in a damp and stinking alley on a cold and/or wet night, which was more the usual sort of thing. No surprise, then, that John was rather enjoying himself.

Yes, he could get used to having stakeouts on a delightful Cornish bay, in the radiant sunshine, with the smell of candy floss and the sound of a brass band both wafting out over the scene. Delightful, all in all.

Sadly, it would probably not happen often enough for him to get used to it. Best thing was to just enjoy it now.

The sky and the water seemed to be competing with one another to see which could be the most blue. John was trying very hard to keep his eyes on that scenery, rather than the much closer, if no less fascinating, sight of his companion.

Sherlock had worn denims in John’s sight before, of course, although not often. But never this particular pair, which were faded and artfully ripped, and which fit…very well, indeed. With the jeans, he was wearing a teeshirt that appeared to have been washed so many times it must have dated from his uni days. The periodic table was still just visible on the front. It was all topped off by a pair of aviator sunglasses and wind-tossed curls that were just lightly tinted ginger by the bright sunlight.

And, yes, John Watson realised very well that he had absolutely no business at all even noticing any of that. But there it was. He noticed.

He shifted his gaze back to the vividly painted boats.

“Do you sail?” Sherlock asked suddenly.

It took a moment for the words to reach John’s brain. “Do I what?” he said.

“Do you sail?” The words were repeated in Sherlock’s ‘I hate to repeat myself’ voice.

“Uh, no,” John said. “Used to take my granddad’s rowboat out on the lake every once in a while. But no sailing. “You do, I suppose?”

Sherlock was watching a particularly sleek boat maneuver in the bay. Supposedly, its owner was a counterfeiter and murderer. “The summer I was fourteen Mycroft and I sailed the length of the Cornish coast. It was the last time we got on, really.”  
John glanced at him, then forced his eyes to look again at the suspect’s boat. “Did you like it?”

“Very much. I always meant to sail around the world,” Sherlock added softly. “Some days I still think about it.”

John frowned. “You’ll tell me if you decide to do that, right? You won’t just vanish?”

“I would tell you, of course.” Sherlock was watching him now. “Would you come along?”

The unexpected question took John aback just a little. “Well, as I said, sailing is not my thing, so I have no idea how much help I would be. But I would go with you, yes, if you asked.” And maybe the sun was getting to him, because he added, “I’d go anywhere you asked.”

Sherlock suddenly grinned at him. “Good to know.”

John returned the smile and then they both watched the silver boat as it turned towards its mooring.

Time to catch a bad guy.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sailing by Peter Heaton


End file.
